


Riding Posey

by lheadley



Series: Chasing Posey [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Chubby Tyler, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, RPF, Top!Tyler, Whipped Cream, chubby!kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:17:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lheadley/pseuds/lheadley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As with the earlier Chasing Posey, a niche fanfic. If Tyler/Dylan or Chubby Tyler are not your thing, don't read. Otherwise comments very welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Desserts

Tyler smiled to himself as he saw who the text was from. He had just gotten into his car, having cleared out some of the more important things from his trailer – the rest could go into storage until filming for the next season started. Dylan had sent:

“Ordered Chinese takeout. Extra fried rice for you. Gotta keep that bubble butt in shape.”

Tyler could already feel his cock burgeoning into an erection at the thought of the evening ahead. He texted back quickly.

“I’ve got dessert covered.”

And he had.

Tyler shifted a little in his seat. His underwear choice was uncomfortable, but he knew Dylan would like it. He turned the key and drove off. 

 

It was half an hour to the apartment he shared with Dylan, and three flights up – because of course the evening he was carrying a heavy box of important crap, the elevator would be broken. Tyler suddenly caught sight of his reflection in one of the hallway mirrors, and he glanced appreciatively at his biceps – pressed against the side of the box and shown to their full advantage. One area Tony would not need to work on when he went back to the gym in LA. Though the stomach, on which the box was resting (sort of) might need some work. What the hell. Dylan liked it.

He stumbled through the apartment door, and dumped the box unceremoniously onto the floor. Dylan was flitting around the kitchen, singing raucously to himself. Again. 

“Dude, you are back...” Dylan swept in for a hug and a sloppy kiss, before pulling back. “Ugh, you are all sweaty.”

“Three flights of stairs, Dylan. With a box full of free gifts and stuff raided from the wardrobe department.” And some stuff from Laurent’s catering team. But that did not need to be mentioned right now. 

“Well, Jeff did want you working out. Get the wine glasses will you?” Dylan was twisting the top off a bottle of wine, nodding with his head at a cupboard above the worktop.

Tyler moved over, opening the cupboard door. “Weren’t the glasses on the bottom shelf before?” he asked in a puzzled tone, reaching up to grab a couple. He half turned to look over his shoulder, to see Dylan grinning wickedly, and looking pointedly at the Tyler’s waist – the act of stretching up to reach the glasses had caused his shirt to ruck up above his belt, exposing a couple of inches of fleshy overhang. 

“Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about...” Dylan wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “I might have rearranged some of the cupboards a little”. 

Tyler glowered at him a little as he pulled his shirt down, bringing two wine glasses and a water tumbler. “No sneak peaks.” Dylan did not look remotely abashed. Tyler set the wine glasses on the table and went to fill the tumbler from the tap. “And if you do get a sneak peak of my fine form” he turned to face Dylan, and then suddenly threw the glass of water over his front “so do I.”

Dylan’s thin white T shirt went virtually translucent at once, clinging to his pecs and taut stomach muscles. 

“Fuck, T, that was cold...”

“Makes your nipples stand out all the more... no you don’t” Tyler blocked him from heading to his bedroom with the clear intention of changing. “I am going to enjoy eating with that in front of me. But in exchange” Tyler undid a couple of buttons at the top of his shirt – which was once form fitting and now just tight. The swell of his chest was pronounced as the fabric pulled away. Dylan swallowed a little and reached to touch the exposed flesh between Tyler’s pecs. Tyler batted his hand back. “Let’s eat”.

 

Dylan was not joking about the fried rice. He seemed to have ordered mountains of it, along with what appeared to be a family meal for four, and Tyler felt almost painfully full at the end of the meal. His underwear choice was even more uncomfortable now, and the waist of his jeans was digging in. The jeans were relatively new too, bought half way through the season when his gym sculpted form had started to give way to the rounder curves he now had, and consequently with a larger waistband. Dylan had confined himself to boiled rice, damn him, and a small serving of sweet and sour pork – though he had worked his way through the wine willingly enough, matching Tyler glass for glass. 

Tyler could taste the wine and the sweet and sour sauce in combination as Dylan suddenly pulled himself over to straddle Tyler’s lap and started kissing. There was a raw undercurrent of lust in the actions, and Tyler could feel the gentle nip of Dylan’s teeth on his lower lip. Dylan slowly slid his hands down from Tyler’s face, where they had been resting on either side, and towards his shirt front. Tyler suddenly caught at them, as they started to fiddle for his shirt button.

“No you don’t”. 

Dylan looked startled, then suddenly apprehensive. 

“I meant...” Tyler smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I meant that I have some things planned. You sort of ran the show both times last night.”

“Uh huh...” Dylan was cautious.

“And in the shower this morning...”

“Oh, God, the shower this morning. Your butt was fantastic. Can we shower and do that again, please T?”

“So now it’s my turn.” Tyler was insistent, overriding Dylan as he squirmed in his lap. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want. More than you imagined, if you play it right.”

Dylan looked back at him then moved in to kiss him violently, mashing his lips into Tyler’s mouth. “I can imagine quite a lot, big boy” he mumbled as he pulled back from the kiss.

“Is that a fat comment, or have you been cheating and handling the goods before purchase?”

“Ummm. Both. “

“Well, hands off”. Dylan removed his hand from Tyler’s crotch. “And let me see you naked.”

Dylan stood up so quickly he almost stumbled. His top had dried off, and was no longer nearly as revealing as when they had sat down to eat. Dylan pulled it off in a confusion of limbs and fabric, before quickly reaching to his belt buckle.

“Easy there, tiger”. Tyler grabbed at his hands, holding them to the sides, and pulled Dylan a little closer to his chair. He darted his head forward and licked a stripe up from Dylan’s waist towards his navel, relishing the salty tang of his skin and the surprisingly soft and somewhat abundant trail of hair. “I want to appreciate what the Teen Wolf audience never gets to see.”

Dylan’s stomach muscles twitched reflexively as Tyler slowly moved his lips over the inch or two of toned flesh above Dylan’s belt – kissing, sucking, and taking small nips with his teeth as the fancy took him. Soon he reached the part of the V of muscle that led from Dylan’s left hip to his crotch, and Tyler began to work his tongue more seriously along the length of that, before switching to the right side and repeating the process. Dylan had lifted his hands (he would never stay static for any length of time) and was coursing them through Tyler’s hair. As long as he steered clear of neck rubs, it was good for Tyler.

“God, Posey, let me take off the jeans, please...”

Dylan’s voice was somewhat rougher than normal. Tyler grinned, and licked his tongue down to the top of the belt buckle. “No, I think I might play around here a little bit more.”

Dylan’s moan of protest changed its tone as Tyler moved his mouth down to bite at Dylan’s impressively erect cock, through the denim of Dylan’s jeans. Dylan’s hands were now clenching in Tyler’s hair, generating little sharp stabs of pain when Tyler’s mouth provoked a particularly convulsive response.

After some moments Tyler pulled back. The front of Dylan’s jeans had darkened over the swell of his cock, where Tyler’s mouth had been active. Looking up the pale expanse of Dylan’s torso, Tyler could see the bright red of Dylan’s mouth and the excitement and agitation in Dylan’s eyes.

“Lose the jeans”. Tyler’s voice had a gravelly tone to it. “But keep the underwear for now.”

Dylan tried to make a show of unbuckling his belt and undoing the button fly on his jeans, but his trembling fingers and agitated excitement made him look more frantic than sexy. Stepping out of the fabric he tripped slightly, lurching towards Tyler as he knelt in front. The action pushed the front of his boxer briefs inches from Tyler’s face.

“God, I can smell you” Tyler moaned out. “I could just reach forward and tear those boxers off you.” He put his hands on either side of Dylan’s waist, sliding the palms gently over the sides of Dylan’s underwear, feeling his own cock twitching almost in synch with Dylan’s as his fingers traced the taut muscle of Dylan’s flanks through the Lycra-cotton material.

The croak Dylan gave seemed to be an attempt to signal his agreement, but Tyler was restrained. There was a plan for this evening. He stood up suddenly, Dylan giving a little huff of displeasure.

“My room tonight. But first...” 

Tyler moved back towards the box he had dumped by the door on entering. His could feel his erection pushed tight against his jeans as he walked. After a moment of rummaging in the box’s contents he pulled out a bag, decorated with pale blue oval of Laurent’s catering logo, with a cry of triumph.

“Dessert”

Tyler unwrapped a canister of whipped cream from the bag. 

“Now, I just need something to serve it on.”

Dylan actually tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to the bedroom.

 

As Tyler sauntered in a couple of minutes later, Dylan was lying on the bed, propped against the headboard. The outline of his cock was visible as it strained against the white boxer briefs, a small damp patch of pre-come slowly growing. Tyler suddenly pulled a camcorder out from behind his back, and flipped it on.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“Well, I start dieting tomorrow. This is as good as you are going to get.” Tyler jiggled his belly through his shirt, with a deliberate glance in Dylan’s direction, who was watching the movement with ill concealed lust. “I thought we should record things for posterity.” Tyler set the camcorder down on a chest of drawers, checked the bed was in full shot, and moved over to where Dylan lay.

“Dude, I am like, nearly naked, and you have barely taken anything off.” Dylan’s voice was plaintive. Tyler kicked off his shoes, and pulled off his socks – earning a sound that was somewhere between a pant and a moan from Dylan as he bent over to do so.

“I am not getting naked to eat dessert. Lie back a bit.” 

Dylan slid a little further down the bed, and Tyler crawled up beside him, canister of cream in hand.

“Ready?” Dylan nodded, and Tyler suddenly squirted cream over both his nipples. Dylan sucked in a breath and twitched.

“Cold, cold, cold”

Tyler moved forward deliberately, and licked across Dylan’s left nipple. The cream and the slight tang of Dylan’s skin was a weird combination, but the sensation on his tongue was fantastic. There was a faint echo of the way Dylan’s come had tasted that morning, but – generous though Dylan’s orgasms had been – this was in far larger quantities. Tyler realised this aspect of foreplay could not go on too long without explosive consequences. He flicked his tongue back and forth, earning quiet groans of pleasure from Dylan, who had his eyes closed. Having swallowed all the cream on the left side, Tyler trailed his tongue across Dylan’s chest, feeling the hardness of the muscle beneath him. He moved a hand to stroke at Dylan’s flat stomach, before sucking greedily on the right nipple, not bothering with the tongue flicks, but applying just enough pressure with his teeth that Dylan bucked up into him. 

Tyler sat slowly up, licking his lips in an exaggerated fashion. Dylan was panting beneath him, his boxer briefs sodden with pre-come around the tip of his cock – something which made the material cling all the more. 

“Fuck, T, will you just, fuck, get undressed for me? Please?”

There was a frantic desperation in Dylan’s voice. Tyler grinned down at him, before swinging a leg over Dylan’s lean frame to straddle him. He sat back carefully, resting his ass cheeks on Dylan’s thighs, eyeing Dylan’s cock as it frantically twitched beneath the fabric – clearly struggling to get free.

“I could just unbutton the shirt...” Dylan moaned his agreement, reaching forward as if to help. Tyler slapped his hand back. “Or I could get out of it a different way.”

Tyler pushed Dylan back onto the pillows, and fixed his eyes on Dylan’s face.

“Watch the shirt, Dylan.”

Surreptitiously Tyler put his left hand behind his back, and pulled the shirt fabric a little more taut. He was not sure this was going to work. He was definitely chubby, and this was an old shirt, but he was not obese. And he had never tried this before. But he had stopped by the wardrobe team that afternoon to borrow some scissors, and he had half cut through the cotton holding the buttons. Checking Dylan was looking where he should be, Tyler pushed his stomach muscles out. The fabric of his shirt strained, a gap opened up between the two buttons above and below his navel. Dylan’s breathing gave a hitch. Tyler pulled at the fabric a little with his left hand, and suddenly the shirt gave way. Buttons flew off, and Tyler’s plump belly was visible, from the paunch that partly obscured the button at the top of his jean’s fly, in a smooth tan expanse of skin up to his chest. 

Dylan stared, rapt, for a long minute. Then his hands were franticly reaching for his cock, seemingly desperate for release. Tyler caught them in his own hands, and guided them to his waist, before removing the remains of his shirt. He could feel the warmth of Dylan’s skin, followed by a violent gripping sensation as Dylan’s fingers kneaded Tyler’s flesh. Looking down he could see the tips of Dylan’s fingers lost in the folds of his stomach. Tyler had never in his life felt as chubby as he did now, but never as sexy either. The way the pale, toned man beneath him craved his soft curves was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced.

“What do you want to do?” Tyler was going for nonchalance, but that was beyond his vocal capacity at the moment.

“Want... fuck T... I want... I want to come...” Dylan broke off for a moment, trying to push his hips up. Tyler’s weight as he straddled Dylan’s thighs prevented that. “I want to come over your fat belly. To... feel my dick against your flabby stomach. To lose my fingers in your bubble butt”

Tyler grabbed both Dylan’s hands in one of his. “Hmmm. Maybe. I think, though, that I might need fattening up a little more.” With one hand Tyler slowly jiggled the front of his stomach, making sure that the spare roll of flesh occasionally brushed against the fingers of Dylan’s trapped hands. “I’ve only got one more day before this all goes.”

Tyler could feel the muscles of his abs beneath the flab, which was reassuring. It would mean training would be less painful. But the amount of flab was quite impressive, he had to admit. He grabbed again with his hand, making a double roll of fat between thumb and fingers.

“I think I need an extra helping of dessert. You know how I love dessert.” 

Looking down at Dylan, Tyler realised this could not go on much longer. The poor guy was going to come without Tyler doing anything. He leaned across to snag the canister of cream. As he did so Dylan gave a choked moan. Tyler looked enquiringly at him.

“Love handles” was all Dylan could manage to say. Tyler glanced down to see two deep creases on the right side of his torso. Huh. He had only ever noticed one crease in the past. 

Wriggling down Dylan’s legs, Tyler pulled Dylan’s damp boxers down. Dylan’s cock was truly impressive, and Tyler began to doubt his capability to take it all. But it was too late to turn back. He squirted cream up Dylan’s length, earning a shouted cry in response.

“Fuuuuck. Cold.”

Immediately Tyler ran his tongue up from Dylan’s balls to the tip of his cock, and swallowed. The scent of Dylan was almost overpowering. He took Dylan’s tip into his mouth, rewarded with a small taste of cream as he did, and started to flick his tongue around the head. As he lay he could feel Dylan’s feet digging into him, his toes squirming into the warm softness of his body.

Tyler sucked down on Dylan, mingling pre-come and cream, while moving his tongue with animation. Dylan was gasping, there was no other way to describe the sound. Tyler went down a second, then a third time. Dylan cried “gonna...” and then a hot spurt of come shot into Tyler’s mouth. Dylan’s orgasm seemed endless. Tyler had sucked off all the cream long before Dylan was over, and was he was left with the unadulterated taste of Dylan in his mouth and throat. Eventually, Dylan stilled. His erratic breathing slowed, and Tyler could feel his muscles relaxing beneath him.

Tyler took his mouth away gently, and pulled himself up to lie beside Dylan. 

“You are making your ‘drunk Stiles’ face” Tyler murmured into Dylan’s ear.

“So don’t care.” Dylan was sounding spaced out. “That was awesome. And as come has no calories you can keep on doing that when Tony has you living on broccoli.”

“You’ll still want me when I am all buff again?”

“Your bubble butt isn’t going anywhere dude. And of course I want you. You’re you. Even with my chubby kink, I would still want you.” Dylan glanced down, not without effort. “Dude, you are still wearing your jeans. How are you still wearing your jeans?”

Tyler smiled. “That is the next bit of the evening...”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you think?”
> 
> Dylan could only make incoherent sounds, almost a whimpering noise with occasional chokes of breath.
> 
> Slowly Tyler turned. “Do you think it is too tight at the back?”

Dylan was sprawling on the bed, a loose limbed, goofy smiled, blissed out picture of toned muscle – toned muscled perfection, in Tyler’s entirely objective opinion. There was a slash of cream near Dylan’s left nipple, and Tyler leant in to lick it off. Tyler could feel the soft rolls of his stomach creasing into one another as he bent over, and Dylan sighed out as Tyler chased the last of the cream off with his tongue.

Pushing himself back up to stand next to the bed, Tyler gazed down at Dylan, raking his eyes up and down the slim contours of his abs, and onto the tautness of his thighs. Dylan was shifting his body in a slow and restless way, his cock moving around slightly against his body. Breathing in, in order to try and generate some slack around the waist of his jeans, Tyler slid two fingers over his hip. The elastic waistband of his chosen underwear had doubled over under pressure from the overhang of his belly, and he wanted Dylan to enjoy the full effect. It looked better when the elastic was pushing into his soft flesh in a smooth, uninterrupted strip.  
Finally adjusted, Tyler looked into Dylan’s eyes.

“So, I was cleaning out my trailer today…” he began. Dylan was still smiling in his “drunk Stiles” way, but looking up at Tyler with some interest.

“And I came across some old underwear.”

Dylan’s eyes moved sharply into focus.

“A jock strap, from the pilot episode. Back when I was buff.” Slowly Tyler undid the button on his jeans, at the same time relaxing his muscles from the somewhat ineffective task of sucking in his gut. The zipper of his fly undid an inch or so as his body spilled from the confining denim fabric. 

“And I wondered if it still fit me.” Tyler undid the rest of his fly zipper, and pushed the jeans down, trying to wriggle out of them without bending over. If he bent over the jock strap waistband would become twisted again. There was a moment when the jeans stuck on the chunky flesh of his thighs, but with a bit of movement they slid down and he was able to step out of them.

A flush was spreading over Dylan’s face as he stared up at Tyler. Tyler had spent some time in front of the mirror in his trailer, and knew the effect that he would be having on Dylan right now. The white of the jock strap stood out against the tan of his skin, and the contrast was seemingly drawing Dylan’s attention. Tyler’s paunch was hanging over the elastic waistband with an obvious ridge of fat, and the tightness of the jockstrap was constricting around his hips – pushing the surplus flesh up into two large love handles. Tyler’s cock was achingly erect against the soft cotton material, but he left it alone for now, wanted Dylan to enjoy this as much as he could.

“What do you think?”

Dylan could only make incoherent sounds, almost a whimpering noise with occasional chokes of breath.

Slowly Tyler turned. “Do you think it is too tight at the back?”

Tyler had spent some time checking himself out in the angled mirrors of his trailer. He knew what his back looked like too. The fat at the front was mainly about his overhanging belly – the paunchy flesh of one too many beers, one too many times. From the back, he knew, the image would be of the tanned muscled expanse of his shoulders tapering down into a narrower waist – still thickset from the back, and still with creases above the love handles, but somehow less obviously fat ; displaying an element of hunk in the chunk. But if Tyler’s back had less obvious displays of fat than his front when it came to his stomach, there was the compensation of his butt.

Tyler knew full well how the tight jockstrap framed the soft ass cheeks of his bubble butt. The thin white material seemed to naturally dip into the creases where his fat buttocks joined his thighs, highlighting the two tan globes of soft flesh. From the ragged cry that came from Dylan, Tyler knew that he had got the position of his underwear just right. Deliberately he slapped at the side of his buttocks, and could feel the two mounds of flesh moving together, shuddering into motion.

“T…” Dylan seemed capable of monosyllables and nothing more. “T…. I….”

Tyler grinned to himself, and moved slowly away from Dylan in the direction of the camcorder, wiggling his hips a little more than he would normally to cause his buttocks to jiggle together with more animation. As he stepped forward, the crease between buttock and thigh would become more pronounced in one leg, enveloping the fabric of the jock strap so as to make it disappear into his body. An almost animal moan came from Dylan. Tyler gently massaged his belly for the benefit of the video, enjoying the feel of his flesh beneath his fingers, and then turned around to walk back repeating the actions – having first grabbed the lube that was lying on the chest of drawers.

“Open yourself up Dylan”. He threw the lube onto the bed. “While I tell you what I am going to do to you. And you are going to do as you are told, because however muscly you are I could squash you in an instant.”

Dylan seemed almost unable to control his hand movements. His cock was already hardening, even though it was still flushed an angry red from his recent orgasm. With shaking fingers he lubed his entrance, and inserted one finger.

“First, I am going to strip out of the jockstrap slowly.” Dylan nodded enthusiastically, his breathing laboured into long gasps, as he inserted a second finger. “And then I am going to kick your skinny little body off the bed, so I can sprawl all over it, letting it all hang out.”

Tyler paused to rub a hand over his belly, grabbing a little at the flesh to lift his stomach and then let the fat fall back into place. The action seemed to spur Dylan to start scissoring himself.

“I am going to prop myself up against the pillows, running a hand over the rolls of fat of my stomach, while you lick your way up the soft inner flesh of my thighs, burying your head between my legs. I am going to have you lick your way up my gut, until I am ready. And then I am going to grab your taut little ass and pull it down onto me, and slowly fuck my way up into you while you moan out my…”

Dylan suddenly pushed himself off the bed, his cock bouncing in semi-hardness. “No… now…”

Tyler felt Dylan’s strong hands grabbing at his shoulders, and then he was losing his balance he sprawled inelegantly onto the duvet cover. Dylan was now standing over him. “I need your fat body beneath me, and your fat cock inside me, now”.

“Dylan…” Tyler was protesting, but Dylan seemed to be driven to a new level of frenetic energy by his lust. He pushed, somewhat ineffectively, at Tyler to get him into a semi-seated position. Tyler pulled himself up. Dylan straddled his legs in a swift movement, wrenching Tyler’s jockstrap down as he did so, and began running both his hands over Tyler’s chest and waist, grabbing at the spare flesh in a way that left red blotchy marks, as he frantically pushed his mouth into kisses against Tyler’s face and neck.

“You know, in spite of all of this your shoulders are still broader than your waist?”. Dylan’s voice was muffled against the side of Tyler’s throat, and Tyler could feel the tickling breath against his neck, but was then distracted by a tremble of pleasure as Dylan’s grabbed two handfuls of his stomach and pulled slightly.

“I promise after the next season you can try and change that around”. Tyler was half serious. “if you can persuade Jeff it won’t ruin the publicity shoots”.

“CGI” was all Dylan said, and suddenly he was sitting up, hand groping for the packet of condoms left on the nightstand.

“Are you sure you want this?” Tyler was making absolutely certain. The lust in Dylan’s eyes did not leave much room for misinterpretation, and the half hard cock currently resting against the smooth swell of Tyler’s belly was pretty clear too. Dylan slapped at Tyler’s arm.

“Just shut up and enjoy yourself.” He ripped the foil of the condom open with his teeth, and then shuffled down Tyler’s body a little, allowing Tyler’s throbbing cock to spring upright from where it had been trapped beneath him. “God, look at the size of that thing.”

Tongue sticking out slightly, Dylan took the condom and put it over the head of Tyler’s cock, before his long fingers slowly eased the sheath down. Tyler gripped the mattress with both fists, willing himself not to come as Dylan gently stroked some lube onto the condom, swirling around the head of Tyler’s cock as he did so. The jockstrap was now hanging around one of Tyler’s ankles –slightly irritating, but not really a distraction from what Dylan was doing.

“God, Dylan, careful. I am so close to the edge, and I want…” 

Dylan stopped his hand movements and looked down. “You want what, big boy?”

“I want to come inside of you. I want you moaning in pleasure as I thrust into you. I want you to be writhing, calling out to me as you ride me.”

“That sounds like a plan….” Dylan slapped at Tyler’s cock with the flat of his palm, looking appreciatively as it bobbed from side to side. “Can I talk while I am riding you and tell you what I want to do to you?”

Tyler was surprised to be asked, but nodded dumbly before hissing an intake of breath as Dylan rose slightly, shuffling up a little on his knees, while grabbing the tip of Tyler’s cock in one of his hands.

“I want that big fat cock of yours inside me, pushing as hard as it can go.” Dylan inserted the tip into his hole. “And I want to see you working. I want you thrusting so hard your beer gut is constantly moving up and down.” Dylan eased himself down a little. Tyler could feel his tip inching past the ring of muscle, being slowly enveloped by the warmth of Dylan. “And….ahhhhh…and I want to see you sweat, see the rolls of your fat body glistening as you push….ahhhh…. as you push…. harder and harder….”

Tyler was almost entirely in now. Dylan gave him a filthy look, and then pushed down, taking Tyler’s whole length into him.

“Come on fat boy, get with the program.” Dylan began bucking his hips slightly – pushing himself up and forwards at the same time. Tyler could see the muscles of his thighs tensing and relaxing, but he was not concentrating particularly. The sensation in his cock was something totally new – Dylan seemed to be flexing his ass muscles as he moved, and Tyler could feel shivers of pleasure as Dylan gripped his cock with little pulses of motion.

“Oh, God, that is…. That is what… yes… Dylan, please, yes….”

Tyler was lying passively, when Dylan suddenly leaned forwards slightly, and grabbed at Tyler’s love handles. “Come on fat boy, let’s have some movement”. Dylan pulled up slightly – not enough to hurt, but enough to ruck the fat of Tyler’s waist into a larger paunch. Tyler pushed his hips up slightly, and was rewarded with another muscle contraction from Dylan – a more powerful one this time.

“Fuck, Dyl… I can’t… I’m gonna”

Dylan was bouncing up and down, his cock swinging in a lazy circle, thwacking against the crease of fat that ran below Tyler’s navel. Tyler made to try and grab at it with one hand feeling that Dylan should be sharing in the pleasure, but Dylan lifted one hand from the folds of Tyler’s waist and batted it away.

“Leave me be… I am going to come all over that fat belly of yours later tonight, when you have finished pumping my tight little ass. I am going to smear come all over you, so that you will have to shower for a week to get the smell of me out of your body.” Dylan leaned forwards and placed his hands over Tyler’s pecs. “God, your chest is just fantastic. Manly and meaty, and your nipples are…”

Tyler moaned out. He could feel himself coming closer and closer to the climax. Dylan’s clenching was becoming more frenetic. He could no longer feel Dylan’s cock slapping against his belly, and looking up through half closed eyes Tyler realised that it was because Dylan was now fully hard again and the red tip of his cock was jutting out above the point where even Tyler’s stomach ended. Tyler could see it now occasionally bashing into Dylan’s muscled torso, leaving glistening spots of pre-come, or maybe come from the last orgasm, against Dylan’s pale skin.

Dylan’s hands moved from Tyler’s chest suddenly. The left returned to massage Tyler’s stomach, pushing the fat up and letting it fall back. The other hand disappeared from view. Tyler was not sure where it was, until he felt a warm touch between his thighs.

“I’m gonna push through your chubby thighs, and work my way into your fat ass”. Dylan’s voice was sounding more and more ragged, as he gasped in time with Tyler’s thrusts. Tyler was prepared to bet he had started to hit Dylan’s prostate. “I’m going to force my way through your chunky ass…” Tyler suddenly felt one of Dylan’s long fingers reach his entrance, the rest of Dylan’s hand enveloped in the soft flesh of Tyler’s inner thighs. 

Dylan suddenly looked down into Tyler’s eyes. “Come for me, then, fat boy”. His thrust his finger into Tyler suddenly, while clenching down as Tyler thrust up, and there was no way Tyler was ever going to be able to stop the orgasm that followed. He stopped thrusting after a further, half hearted attempt, and just lay as Dylan moved himself up and down more slowly, while still probing with his finger. After what seemed an eternity of bliss Tyler opened his eyes. Dylan slowly pulled himself off Tyler’s hyper sensitive cock, and went to pull off the filled condom.

“No, don’t.” Tyler had a pleading note in his voice. “Too sensitive.”

“Sure thing, big boy.” Dylan stroked Tyler’s sweaty flanks instead, working from above Tyler’s hips to mid thigh. After a couple of minutes of relative silence, punctuated only by heavy breathing from both of them, Dylan gradually lowered himself down to lie on top of Tyler. Tyler could feel the heat of Dylan’s cock pressed into the soft flesh of his own stomach. He could feel the gradually slowing beat of Dylan’s heart through the muscle of Dylan’s chest, beating against his own softer chest.

“Just tell me when you feel up to a little friction.” Dylan was whispering into Tyler’s ear. “We have all night. And I want to fuck into that fat belly of yours, before you get rid of it all.”


End file.
